


American Trains

by HellieAce



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AT - Freeform, American Trains, Cowboys, M/M, Western
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 11:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellieAce/pseuds/HellieAce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1870s AU in the American Midwest. Alfred F. Jones the cowboy finds himself miserable and infuriated by his fellow cowhands when he stumbles upon a man who could turn it all around...or maybe get him killed. Historically accurate. USUK</p>
            </blockquote>





	American Trains

**Author's Note:**

> Woah, hi folks. So this was my first fanfiction ever written. It's been gone over, edited, and greatly improved since its original publication more than a year ago. Hope you all enjoy the improvements if you read it on FFN, and if it's your first time, then I hope you just enjoy it in general. :) Naturally, there are still mistakes, as my beta and I are only human. Beta is the fantastic Kay, beta to some amazing writers like George deValier.

A wave of midday sun washed over the dusty Kansas plain, blazing the open terrain with blinding light and scorching heat. The thick, dry clumps of grass shimmered from the sun’s blaze and dust that lingered over the dry fields. The buzz of flies and other day insects droned through the air, only adding to the atmosphere of misery that clung to the landscape like a vise. Another sound filled the choked air as well: the baying of cattle.  
  
A thick herd of Texas Longhorns trampled the hard ground as they were driven along by a rag-tag band of cowboys. The cattle moved sluggishly, exhausted from the long day’s walk alongside their horse-mounted escorts. Most of the cowboys were slouched heavily in their saddles, chatting lowly to one another when they rode side-by-side…all but one.  
  
Alfred narrowed his eyes against the blinding afternoon sunlight pouring over the dusty expanse before him. Even the rough hat perched on his head could not completely eliminate the nuisance of the sun as it bounced right back off the dust and into his line of sight. He blinked a few times and resisted the urge to swipe his dusty gloves across his eyes.  
  
The cowboy gave a hefty sigh as he continued his work. With hands confidently loose on the reins, he steered his chestnut quarter horse after the moving mass of cattle. Not far off around the herd, more cowboys were doing the same thing: steering and driving and just doing their job.  
  
Alfred could honestly say he didn’t like any of them. They all wore scowls under their dust-coated hats. Some openly swore their troubles, hollering to keep a few of the braver animals in check.  
  
Normally, Alfred was a cheerful fellow, but out in this miserable open hell-space, he found himself becoming more and more agitated at every little upset. He found himself acting more like one of those other scowling fellows. Just one word from another sour-mouthed cowboy would have set him off and he grit his teeth at the thought. But eighteen hours in the saddle with only a few uncomfortable hours rest spent lying uselessly on the ground in a pathetic attempt at sleep would do that to even the most pure-hearted man.  
  
So the herd and the cowboys kept on, mostly in heavy silence or random angry outbursts due to the tension rich air. Alfred silently dared anyone to try and talk to him or order him to another part of the herd, anything to relieve the budding fury in his gut. A good yelling match might be just what he needed to blow off built-up steam. By the end of the day, he was just that irked.  
  
Nothing of the sort occurred though, much to his chagrin, and Alfred was left instead to silence and watching the space between his mount’s tall ears.  
  
As they padded on, they came upon a much flatter expanse of land with a bit more greenery than usual. His horse suddenly skirted around a thorny looking bush that Alfred thought might have been horse-apple. He wondered briefly if the land they were crossing might have been someone’s farm.  
  
He looked around but couldn’t spot any fencing, animals or ranch; only the long string of horse-apple bushes lining a small strip.  
  
 _Odd_ , the cowboy thought, but shrugged it off.  
  
They continued on for an unmeasured amount of time. It dragged out uncomfortably, making it seem like a hellish to the cowboy, but eventually the sun began to dip too far below the horizon for the exhausted cowboys to keep on. They circled to stop the herd before setting up a small campsite, digging a pit for the fire. They gathered up brambles and deeply-rooted bushes as a poor excuse for firewood. It burned up too quickly, forcing them to stockpile an impressive amount.  
  
Alfred circled one final time to make sure nothing was lingering on the outskirts of their site, mostly looking for rouge carnivores and maybe a few late night snakes but found everything all clear. He let his horse return to the camp at an easy pace to find the rest of his working team already settling for the night.  
  
One on the far end with dark hair and sun-crisped skin addressed him with a rude wave -- Alfred could not remember his name at the moment though -- and he wiggled his feet in his sleeping bag.  
  
“Hey, take first watch, would ya?” he ordered rhetorically, and the others smirked. “I mean, we’re all already set, and ya still on your horse and all.” Obviously this had been planned judging by the smug grins most of them wore as they looked at Alfred, who felt his lips quirk in a sneer.  
  
“Fine,” he said dismissively, and turned his horse around. He heard them laugh loudly as the blond trotted his horse away from the glare of the fire, cursing harshly under his breath.  
  
Earlier today he’d have jumped from the saddle to deck anyone who’d have suggested it, but inside the cowboy almost welcomed the chance to avoid them now. He was tired and suddenly cold as the desert air released the day’s heat.  
  
The blond’s shoulders drooped and he let his eyelids shut for a moment. It felt incredibly good, but the tall blond swore he wasn’t going to fall asleep on watch. The cowboy wasn’t about to give his fellows another reason to laugh at or taunt him. Eventually though, he felt himself start to slope in the saddle.  
  
 _This is gonna be a long night,_ he thought to himself, and tried to focus on something, anything to keep his mind alert.  
  
After a few lame attempts, he just settled on watching his mount’s ears twitch. He absently ran his fingers through the horse’s coarse mane, unable to feel the strands through his leather gloves: anything to distract himself from the wondrous thoughts of sleep.  
  
“Hey, Hero?” he tiredly addressed his horse, “ya sleepy, old friend?” The big animal’s ears swiveled back to listen to his rider’s voice however – and not unexpectedly -- his response was mute.  
  
Alfred shrugged.  
  
“Well I am, and those dead beats sure ain’t actin’ too kindly these days, huh? Makin’ us go on watch first for four nights in a row now!”  
  
Hero snorted, his ears swiveling back again.  
  
“I know, ya don’t like it either. But dun’ worry! Trail’s almost over, and then we can get into town and have us a good time, huh?” The cowboy laughed, patting the horse’s thick neck. “Been too long since I had me a nice bed, some real food and a boss glass a whiskey, right, boy?”  
  
Hero seemed to listen until Alfred had finished, but quickly redirected his attention on the dusty ground again.  
  
The night stretched on without event after that. But just as Alfred could no longer bear to stay alert, deciding to go wake another cowboy for watch, he heard a strange noise  
  
His horse shifted below him and let out a soft snort, its barrel body shuddering. The blond narrowed his eyes and urged his mount toward the noise. The horse obeyed but his ears swiveled in annoyance, or maybe fear. The sleep-deprived cowboy found it hard to tell in his muddled mind.  
  
The noise grew louder and obviously closer. Alfred could faintly make out a dark body writhing against the pale ground. He squinted. Was… was that a person?  
  
Alfred paused his horse with a very slight tug and stared down at the man dressed in what may have once been a suit, now merely shredded cloth, struggling with his legs caught in a mass of rusted barbwire. The noise had been the man struggling and swearing with a strange accent.  
  
The tangled man suddenly noticed Alfred’s approach and glared up with an angry spark in his bright emerald eyes.  
  
“Well, don’t just sit there you git! Help me!”


End file.
